Codename: Kids Next Door Operation: AWAKEN
by Number 7337
Summary: College freshman, Nigel Uno, struggles to find purpose and meaning in his new life on campus until the day comes where a mysterious stranger suggests that their day to day life may be a façade for something more nefarious and that the world must be awakened to save it. Let me know if you like the story and I'll update more! Thanks for reading!
1. Prologue

Prologue

It was a chilly fall evening and there was a light fog that filled the alleys like smoke. The vehicle convoy lurched through the misty back alleys of the city and came to a slow stop in front of the office buildings. The world elsewhere was spinning as it always had but this night was set apart; the convoy's arrival was evident of that. The cars were like dark steeds; their headlights were glaring through the fog like red eyes and their riders like dark wraiths of the night. The doors of the first car and the two cars following in the back opened up and suited men stepped out and shut the doors behind them. After they had visually cleared the area, the back door of the middle car opened up and a greying head of hair atop a very tall and skeletal man stepped out. He said nothing and looked at nothing, except to size up the building in front of them. With a "clink" of a Zippo lighter, he slowly lit the cigar in his mouth.

He puffed on it and thoughtfully gazed into the blackness bookending the dark alley and started walking towards the daunting doors, the smoke rising towards the sky like a shroud. The suited men followed loosely behind the tall man who paced up the stairs, his long black overcoat flowing behind him like shadow. When he reached the top of the stairs he didn't head towards the large revolving doors that were centered in the large glass business front but instead headed towards the far left. The main doors were for everyday business and everyday people; business that was commonplace, passive, and ignorant. There was a small single bypass door where there was a magnetic card key reader attached to the door frame to the left for unintentional business, the kind that was conducted after hours.

The thin man's spider-like arm reached into his suit coat pocket and produced a worn, grey card which he slid through the reader in a very methodical manner. The reader's LED lights which were previously glowing red, like embers, turned to a sickly green and the men had access to the building.

They took the elevator to an indiscriminate floor and walked down the dark hallways to an open door where pale light was bleeding out. Three of the suited men had followed the tall man and they were the first to enter the door and took places along the wall. The thin man crept into the room at last, with purposefully hesitation and a deep exhalation of his cigar smoke, heralding his entrance.

"You're late!" whined a tiny voice from a middle aged balding man in a tan overcoat who was seated at the closer end of the table. He was seated nonchalantly in the chair, legs crossed, and overshadowed by his own troop of suited men; five in number. This man, compared to the dark suited man, was awkwardly out of his element. The balding man had small filthy glasses that he peered out with trembling eyes that were too close together. His mousy nose was turned up in a sense of false confidence and it was clear to all in the room that he was the wrong man for the job.

The cigar smoking man made no attempt to answer.

The inexperienced balding man smugly made eye contact with the man still cloaked by the shadow cast by the poor lighting. The aged wrinkles around the latecomer's jet black eyes were unnerving. They were determined, educated, informed, and domineering. The balding man quickly felt intimidated...and vulnerable.

"Well," he stammered, "I guess it really doesn't matter…timing, I mean," He said with small breathy laugh. The thin man stood still in the shadow of the door way, taking a long puff on his cigar and lowering it again…saying nothing.

The balding man, his face fully illuminated under the heat of the lights hanging from the ceiling above the table, began to shift in his seat, "My employer would like some assurance on his investment…"

The thin man was perched in the shadowy door way; his face illuminated by his cigar puffs…saying nothing.

"Can, uh," the balding man continued, "Can the material be acquired without a hitch?"

"Of course it can," The shadow man finally whispered in a gruff tone. He moved, finally, slightly into the room, but not out of the shadows, to flick the ashes of his cigar into an ashtray on the corner of the table. "I've already told your employer that I was handling it."

The balding man shifted again as he was more uncomfortable. He had heard about this man but had never really come in direct contact with him. All of his dealings with this man in the past were through a lengthy chain of anonymous correspondence; there was something different about meeting with him face to face. The man took another long drag on his cigar and, like a dragon, blew it out of his nose in a short and curt breath. More than just the cigar smoke, it was difficult to breath in the room; this shadowy character seemed to carry an aura of command.

"How can you be sure?" The trembling man asked.

The shadow man leveled his eyes, lit with a dark flame.

"I have a contact," he said with a pause, shifting the cigar to a passive position to shake off the ashes. A smile crept over the withered face of the man in the shadows. It was a smile of knowing and understanding more than amusement; it was not a practiced smile, or a smile of deception, it was cunning, assured, and terrifying.

"Someone on the inside who assures me that the material can be extracted without incident and without evidence," He said quietly, through the smile. "In fact, I believe the only question of doubt in all of this is your lack of confidence," The cigar moved back to a more active position in front of the man's mouth as he narrowed his eyes towards the coward at the edge of the table.

"...Your skepticism."

The balding man, cornered as he was, found a renewed source of defiance as he felt the web begin to close in on him.

"I don't think my employer will look kindly on your criticism" he said with a sneer.

"Your employer," the tall man replied subtly and with that familiar cold smile creeping across his face, "will never know."

The balding man's heart began to beat faster as a pillar of smoke was blown in his direction, "What do you mean?"

The shadow man began to shift slightly and advance closer to the table.

"I'm very good at my job Mr. Watkins," he said with a voice that sounded like leaves rustling on an old road, "Which is why your employer consulted with me in the first place; and unbeknownst to you, and even your employer, I have a contact in _his_ office as well."

Mr. Watkins felt the color drain out of his face and his heart begin to pound in his chest; the room was getting smaller and it was getting tougher to breath.

"I know" the shadow man continued, "something about you that your employer doesn't even know but I'm sure would love to. I know about your duplicity and the money you stand to make if your treasonous plans work out."

He began to turn, in soliloquy, as he retreated back to the warmth of the dark doorway, "However, with the evidence that you so conveniently "forgot" to erase, the evidence I had planted openly in the bank logs, he'll understand why I made the decision I made".

The balding man could feel sweat beads racing down his face and he could smell the fear on his hired guns behind him.

"In short Mr. Watkins: yes, after tonight I can give your employer assurance that the plan will go without a 'hitch'". The man said with grave sincerity as he took another long drag of his cigar.

"What decision?" the balding man whispered, slowly rising to his feet.

The smoking man said nothing as his, previously statuesque; comrades pulled silenced handguns from their coats. There were flashes of light as the five unprepared hired men tried miserably to pull their own weapons among the hits and the balding man crippled to the floor. Still, those flashes were not nearly as haunting as the devilish hue illuminating the smoking man's face from the embers of his cigar; his satisfied drawing of a breath as his prey was exhaling their last.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was the first day of college and it was the first day of new beginnings. The summer after high school had seemed different than other summers. Instead of flying by, this one had felt like it was aging, unlike the summers when he was a kid. When he was a kid, the summers seem to fly far too fast, and so did this one, but this time it was as though it were dying, never to return to a carefree summer again. It was fall now and those times were fading like the leaves on the trees.

Nigel Uno sat at the bench outside of the building in which his last class for the day had just finished up. He was a freshman student at Gallagher University, an old Virginian school known for its top notch teachers and advanced learning methods. It took money to go to this college, but Nigel's ACT scores were good enough to get him in at a manageable rate. He could never remember wanting to do well in school before, but now it was different. Now, he was entering the world of adults and the pressure of adulthood was beginning to weigh heavily on him. A business major could get a job almost anywhere, but that wasn't really what Nigel wanted in life. It seemed like such a great decision to go to college when he was in high school and Gallagher University was a great school to go to with national accreditation but still he didn't find satisfaction in his soul. Looking back at the decision to go to school, he was afraid that it was more of a "filler" decision than an end goal. Nigel figured himself to always been driven by goals and purposes but he wasn't seeing it here. After all, He had come from a long line of prestige. Many Unos from history past had been among the first explorers, heroes in major wars, and pioneers in innovation.

Wasn't there something else to life? Wasn't he supposed to be meant for something more?

As a child, he always dreamed. He dreamed of saving the world, being a hero, finding the purpose of life that needed someone to carry it to the end. He would give his last breath to the fight…if he only knew what that fight was. The reality was that time was moving rapidly. His so called childhood was nearly over and it wouldn't be long until he was expected to act like an adult and fall in line. He would need to pick a career and stick with it; he would probably end up married with 2.5 children and a minivan. He wanted some of those things, but he couldn't help but feel that his destiny was already picked for him and that thought was something that deeply troubled him. Who said that he had to get a career and enslave himself to the corporate world?  
Still, the other choice was plain and simple. It would be far easier to drop out awash in booze and parties and to get some cushy job somewhere just getting enough money for rent and to feed his habits; but that was the coward's way out and Nigel would rather die. In his mind, they were both forms of enslavement but one was creative and the other destructive.

What Nigel found himself wanting was a crusade; a moral and spiritual struggle for enlightenment. He wanted to chase his destiny and struggle to get it. He didn't want anything handed to him and he didn't want to live the life of debasement. Yet, he felt as though he was being required to pursue these interests. They were not his, they were not a fight, and there would be no REAL struggle and therefore no REAL victory. All of his heroes from history had these struggles; they had moments of peril where they had to take a clear stand on the truth.

What was the truth?

"This seat taken?" a voice interrupted his philosophical crisis.

Nigel was afraid to look up, not afraid because he couldn't make conversation but afraid because he might have to. He slowly looked up and peered out over the top of his glossy, black, sunglasses. He saw a smiling African-American girl that seemed to be the same age as he. She was certainly a woman of style, with a royal blue athletic shirt, black shorts, and large gold hoop earrings. Her smile indicated an air of tomboyish nature and cunningness that was very inviting. The only thing that drew more attention than her smile was the rose colored ball cap that crowned her head; a long braided ponytail of jet black hair poking out of the back.

"Be my guest!" Nigel said with a wave of his arm, half sarcastically.

She sat hastily down on the bench and leaned back on the backrest.

"MAN!" She whined, "What did you think of that pop quiz in Hensly's class?"

Nigel silently shrugged, still trying to collect his thoughts.

"I don't know if I'm going to do so well in that class, they say he _really_ picks on us freshmen," she moaned, "and grammar ain't really my strong suit".

Nigel politely smirked at the irony of her language choice.

"I mean," She continued, "I grew up in Louisiana and everybody just talks normal there and I _know_ most of them never took a class like this one. Do you think we could be lab partners? I'm pretty quick to put things together _and_ I know a leader when I see one. You'll probably do great in that class and I want to help!" Her excitement was growing, "Let's work together bud; we'll be a great team! Help me, help you!"

Nigel laughed, "Let me guess, marketing major?"

"Nope!" Her smile got wider and her bright brown eyes lit up in sport, "I'm just trying to get my basics, then boot camp and then I'm applying at Langley. I want to work for the CIA."

Nigel tugged at his red sweatshirt's sleeves. "Really?" he said, trying not to show over-interest.

"Yep!" She laughed, "And you don't have to act like you're not interested! I'm serious! I'm going to excel at Langley and I'm going to go far and so will you Nigel. I can see it! Let ME guess…business major?"

Nigel started laughing too.

"See!" The woman shouted and slapped Nigel's knee. "I told you! You and I, we're going to go far. It's nice to see you smile though, you looked pretty down in class but it wasn't the typical homesick look."

"I'm not homesick," Nigel said, "I was just trying to figure out what I'm doing here."

"You're not enrolled?" she asked with a playful smile.

Nigel rolled his eyes, "No, I'm enrolled but I've no idea why. I heard the pre-class assembly on the great potential and purpose here at Gallagher University, but I don't see it. I find myself wondering why I might spend countless hours and thousands of dollars to learn trivia that I don't care about, so I can get a degree I don't want and try to snag a job I'll hate. I want purpose; I want to be wanted."

"That's not something you go and ask for," She said with a serious look in her eyes, "That's something that comes and asks for you. Don't worry; you're meant for something good and it will come to you in due time, you just need to make sure that you are the type of person that will answer the challenge."

Nigel smiled and let her words sink into his ears, "Thank you, you know, that is probably what I needed to hear."

She got up to leave, "What's your name anyway?"

Nigel mockingly reeled, "You mean you don't know?"  
"Nigel Uno"

Nigel really did reel.

The woman laughed again and shook her head, "Oh Nigel, it's written on your books!"

Nigel could feel himself blushing.

The woman straightened her shirt and shot her hand out, "My name is Abigail Lincoln, but you can call me Abby. Keep an eye out for me Nigel; we need to team up on this Hensly stuff. By the sound of your English accent, you're probably already well versed in grammar, so we'll tackle this with no problem!"  
She tipped her rose colored ball cap and started walking towards a parking lot. Nigel took his black shades off and rubbed his forehead, his fingers finding their way across his bald head as he thought; perhaps it wouldn't be that bad at this school. He adjusted his red sweater and smoothed out his khaki cargo pants as he considered what had just taken place. Abigail seemed like should would make a good friend; she seemed smart, sensible and level headed. She certainly had determination and devotion and was a breath of fresh air from all of his thoughts.

As Nigel looked out over the sea of people walking about, he noticed some on their phones and some interacting with others. No doubt they were talking about the classes or meeting each other for the first time, the drama that would inevitably arise from these relationships would sprout from the seeds being planted in these very same conversations. These people, who were content to party hard and study light; lost in the labyrinth of a made up reality, and he was terrified of ending up like that.

They were like sheep to him.

He didn't think of that term as derogatory, it was a term to describe the docile and timid nature of these people. These people would live their lives concerned about the basic needs and fret about crisis that they would eventually have, but these needs and crisis would rarely rise to the level of life and death; good and evil. These people relied heavily on those around them to provide for them or make decisions and they were comforted to live in their boxes.

It was the wolf who would see them as vulnerable. The wolf who resided just beyond the shadow was ever watching the sheep and knew their methods thoroughly. He could walk amongst them undetected because of his cunning nature and would attack the weakest among them at their most vulnerable point. They wouldn't be able to fight back; they would certainly perish.

What was Nigel, a sheepdog perhaps? He was constantly sneered at for being the one that was nipping at the heels of the sheep and trying to get them to better themselves, and take control of their lives and he was ever rejected because of it. He felt it, though, to be his moral obligation. He observed what others couldn't…what they wouldn't. They had their microcosms, tech filled realities that they monitored with vigilance while the real world spun on. Nigel would see to it that they could stay in their pastures, constantly griping about the grass on the other side of the fence, but still remain provided for.

…That they might remain free.

Nigel stood up and grabbed his books. Abby had certainly inspired him to make a change in how he approached college. She had recruited him to a whole new level of commitment, why shouldn't he take charge of his environment? Why not make decisions instead of letting the situation dictate what he would do? He wouldn't just study in college but instead he would start looking for that crusade and Gallagher University was the method by which he would start.

There was a way to keep from becoming like that; the answer lied in taking responsibility and having the courage to answer when that dilemma called upon him to serve.

He started rummaging through his cargo pockets to find his cell phone. His combat boots clunked heavily on the sidewalk as he hurried to his new dorm room. He would begin to search for his destiny but he was confident that his destiny was already searching for him.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, startling him.

It was his girlfriend….Lizzie.

"Hey, Babe!" He said, snapping the phone open.

"Hey, Nigh-gie, watchya doing?" came the whining baby voice reply.

Lizzie Devine was the girl that lived down the street when Nigel was a child. They had grown up together and played together and naturally fell in love. She was a chubby girl with bright red hair and freckles on her face. She could be overbearing at times, but she was always a part of Nigel's life. He could never remember a time where she wasn't present and he certainly couldn't imagine a time where she wouldn't be right by his side.

"I'm walking to my dorm right now, are you out of class?"

"Yeeeesssss," She cooed, "Do you want to spend some time together? I hear there is a get together at the Kappa Nu Delta fraternity tonight for all the new freshmen!"

Nigel couldn't think of anything he'd rather NOT do. If there was one difference between the two of them it was their social tendencies. Nigel would much rather be studying, or researching, or expanding his skills and talents in exercises. The LAST thing he wanted to do was go to a party or a "get together" with a bunch of older kids, or sheep in this case. Lizzie was not that way however, she had always loved the scene, the limelight, and the rush of the crowd. Nigel had accompanied her over the years to these events and would no doubt do so again in the future, but his mind was always on the tasks at hand. He would have much rather to spend his time with a small group of friends and family, but Lizzie had to have the interaction of the crowd in order to get satisfaction out of anything.

"Oh yeah?" he said and then went silent.

"Yeah Nigh-gie, do you want to go?"

More silence…

"Ah…sure lovey….sure thing. Why don't you call me later with some times and I'll come by to pick you up."

"You mean you don't want to hang out until then? Where are you anyway?"

More silence.

"Oh well, I thought I might study for a little bit, they've hit me hard in my advanced classes already".

A new silence.

"Yeah, Nigel, that would be ok. If that is what you really want to do, then we can just do that."

"Thanks Honey, I sure appreciate the…

He heard nothing on the other end of the line.

"Hello...Liz?"

He snapped the phone shut and stuffed it in his pocket.

He looked up at the dorm hall where he was staying. He had a room to his self for the first semester at least and that was comforting to him. There would be more room to work and less distraction. He walked up the stairs and started to his room. There was a myriad of noises and shouts as Nigel walked down the long corridor to his cell. It would have to do for the time being but hopefully he could find someone to rent out a place not too far from the college so that he could get some more peace and quiet. He found his door open and loud music playing. Who could have broken in? Who would be after him and why?  
He stuck his head around the corner and found someone leaning over the table. Who was that? What were they doing in there? He jumped in the door with a loud yell and threw his books on the floor. This type of entrance caused the figure at the table to launch out of the chair and throw his Coca-Cola across the room at Nigel, who dodged it easily.

"WHAT IN THE WORLD!" the kid yelled.

Nigel stood silent for a moment and then roared, "Who are you and what are you doing in here?"

"I'm your roomie, you weirdo!" The chubby kid yelled back.

Nigel walked slowly towards the table and sat down in his wingback chair. He didn't take his eyes off of the stranger and the stranger didn't take his eyes off the exit door.

"Oh," Nigel said, "I'm sorry, I thought for sure that I had a room for myself, I wasn't aware that I had a roommate. My name is Nigel Uno."

"I'm not so sure that you do after that little episode!" The stranger whimpered, "I totally nearly wet myself!" Nigel was a little embarrassed; this wasn't the first time he acted without thinking things through and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"The name is Hoagie P. Gilligan Jr." The stranger said with a goofy looking smile and trying to catch his breath. "I came in a little after the classes ended. I was honestly considering not even coming at all. There are so many people here and I don't do well with normal people".

"What do you mean by "normal people"?" Nigel asked cautiously.

"You know," Hoagie whined, "These people you see around who are not really here to go to college or they are here because their parents made them come. The type of people who don't want to learn about what we're being taught. The same people who will end up stuffing me into a locker. That's the normal people".

Relieved at the answer, Nigel walked over and put his stuff on his bed. He didn't think anyone could _fit_ Hoagie in a locker. Hoagie was a stereotypical, stocky, and plain American kid. He was quite chubby, wearing a blue collared shirt and khaki dress pants, and sported a silly grin. He had an old school aviator cap on his head complete with yellow tinged goggles strapped to the top.

"Well, I won't stuff you in a locker, guy, I can promise you that!" Nigel said with a grin.

"Anyway," Hoagie continued, "I came late and so they put me in this room with you."

Nigel was already examining the stuff that Hoagie had brought with him. It was what you might expect a freshman to bring to college, probably more stuff than he needed, stuff that would end up on Nigel's side no doubt. Hoagie also had an unusual amount of airplane models on his desk and some posters on the wall of warplanes from wars long forgotten.

"I see you have affection for flight!" Nigel said, not really knowing what else to say towards Hoagies childlike obsession.

"Are you kidding me?" Hoagie scoffed, "I don't have affection for planes; I LOVE them!"

Nigel didn't say anything

"My grandfather fought in World War II as a fighter pilot and my dad served in the Gulf War as a fighter pilot and if I could join the service, I would be a fighter pilot also!"

Nigel perked up at the thought, "Why can't you join?"

Hoagie slunk down in his desk chair, "I'm too heavy and it's a matter of personal dignity!" He began to straighten back up. "Did you know that the First Lady has initiated a health plan for all of us Americans? A diet, Nigel! Why can't I be fat if I want to be fat? I should be able to live how I want to without having someone, who thinks they are better than I am, telling me what pant size I should be wearing! I wish my value to society would be determined by my mind and my talents and not my gut. Are there not more important things in life, about my life, my personality, my…my destiny even, than my physical weight?"

There was an awkward silence.

"That and I have asthma…automatic disqualification", Hoagie whimpered.

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you're alright the way you are, Hoagie. If you love flying you should pursue it no matter what other people say. You shouldn't let that kind of thing keep you from doing what you love."

Hoagie turned to Nigel with a gleam in his eye, "I never said that it would keep me from flying. I'm already working on my first aircraft as we speak".

Nigel was floored, "Really?"

"Yes," Hoagie said with confidence, "I love inventing things! I love anything related to mechanics! I've built car engines, radios, this computer, a radar system, and plenty of other stuff. My latest and soon to be greatest invention though is my baby! I call her the S.C.A.M.P.E.R."

Nigel was very intrigued as he looked over the designs. What type of person was this? Was he crazy, genius, or a little of both? Was this yet another piece of the puzzle? Was destiny calling for this guy to be a part of the greater picture; the struggle that Nigel felt would be seeking him?

"But," Hoagie disrupted, "You won't be able to see it yet since I still have work to do on it. Besides, my parents would flip if they knew I was spending more time on that than my school work. I'll never get into M.I.T. if I don't do well here."

"M.I.T.?" Nigel asked.

"Yeah," Hoagie said, "I could go right now if I really wanted to, academically speaking, but, you know, leaving home and the distance and all…"

Nigel didn't inquire any further. Besides, it seemed like he found out everything he needed to know. Hoagie passed Nigel a worn out spiral notebook across the table. Nigel looked on the cover to see "2" X 4" Codex" written on the front. He opened it up to see some very interesting measurements, specs, blueprints and design ideas; there was attention to detail like none other.

They were going to get along just fine.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Several weeks later, Nigel found himself enjoying college but not for the reasons that he expected. The classes were good and required a lot of hard work and diligence but they seemed to be dragging on constantly with no other goal than to exist. Nigel found more enjoyment in spending time with Hoagie and Abby. They would share philosophy; talk about current events, and share goals and aspirations and these connections were what helped Nigel cope with the monotony of the status quo.

This particular sunny afternoon they were meeting at Lime Ricky's, a popular student lounge that was across the street from the campus. College students did come for the snack bar, soda fountain and free Wi-Fi but mostly because it was the only hangout within walking distance of the campus.

"Well," Abby said to a cheerful Nigel and Hoagie, "Abby needs to go to the library and get something done today, or she's not going to do well in History of Western Civ."

"Yeah," Hoagie piped up, barely being able to contain himself, "You better…BOOK IT!"

Hoagie practically fell out his booth seat laughing.

"Aw man! Knock that off!" Abby said rolling her eyes. She took her red ball cap off and beat Hoagie over the head with it. "Those puns are getting old!"

Hoagie peered over the edge of the table after shirking in response to the violence.

"You mean," he said chuckling, "OLD HAT!"

Abby rolled her eyes again and stuck her thumb out towards Hoagie. "Make sure he doesn't get into trouble" she said to Nigel, shaking her head. "He's hopeless".

Hoagie kept laughing as she walked off.

"Well, I think I'll try out a chili dog…or two," Hoagie said as he adjusted his aviator hat, "You want one?"

Nigel was already distracted as he noticed a girl with shoulder length golden blond hair across the lounge at a lone table with an open binder full of papers and a small pile of books next to them. She was staring towards Nigel and Hoagie as if she had seen a ghost. Even at such a great distance, the intrigue on her face was very evident. Nigel watched her out of the corner of her eye but acted as if he didn't notice her.

Hoagie saw that Nigel was distracted and quickly looked around inconspicuously. His glance quickly caught the blond haired girl in the back. She was short but carried a commanding presence; her frame was small, but seemed strong; her eyes were soft, but alight with fire. There was something strange about her, but Nigel couldn't quite figure it out.

"It's that same girl, isn't it Nigel? The one that you think has been following you?"

"Maybe" Nigel said, turning his full attention to Hoagie, "I've been seeing her a lot more these last few days. She tries to talk to me but doesn't try to make small talk, she always asks if I recognize her and she acts like we've been old friends or something; quite an unusual issue."

"Trust me man, I know girls" Hoagie said with such confidence that Nigel did a double take. "She's trouble".

Nigel smiled, "I don't know what she is Hoagie, I just don't want to be bothered with it".

Hoagie shrugged and headed of towards the snack bar, searching for his wallet.

"Who?" asked Lizzie, who had suddenly walked up behind Nigel.

Nigel spun around to see Lizzie's disapproving smile. "Oh, hi honey!" he said, still half lost in thought.

"Hey Nigel!" She screeched, sitting down in Hoagie's seat. "Who were you guys talking about?"

Nigel, still wearing his black shades, could see over Lizzie's shoulder and saw Hoagie sticking out right in the open, as per usual, disappointedly trying to find somewhere else to sit. Thankfully, Lizzie didn't see him.

"Oh, we were just talking about some of our classmates. How were your classes today?"

Lizzie started looking around as though that wasn't the answer she was looking for. "My day was good!" She said, "but I wish you and I had more classes together!".

"We have five together," Nigel said with a smile.

"Yeah" she sighed, "but we could have more!" She began to twirl one of her pigtails as she leaned on the table, "Have you met any new friends, Nigh-gey?"

Nigel pushed his shades to the top of his head, "Sure, You've met Abby and Hoagie."

"Yeah, Abby's ok, but she doesn't like the scene or anything though so she probably won't last long anyhow and I don't like Hoagie" she said curtly, "I think being seen with him will damage your reputation Nigh-gey. You're strong, brave and smart and I want people to see that in you. They don't need to see you hanging out with a dork."

Nigel was a little taken aback. "What do you mean? I think that Hoagie is a good influence. He is already helping me with my grades, especially math and science!"

He glanced over at Hoagie who was still awkwardly trying to find a place to sit, garnishing the laughter of those watching him. He seemed to be considering how he might put his tray on top of the trash can lid and eat standing up

"Besides, I don't think I even have a reputation, so what does it matter?"

Lizzie was not amused, "Have you tried out for the football team?"

Nigel was not amused, "FOOTBALL! Are you kidding me babe? Look at me, I can't play football! Football is a game for teenagers anyway!"

"What about all those hikes you take, the canoeing, the rock climbing! I thought the whole point of all that silly stuff was so that you could build up your body up so you could do well at college football?"

Nigel was a little shocked. He had no idea that his Lizzie wanted him to play football. He had nothing against the sport as it was, but he was not athletic in body _or_ mind. He appreciated the talent that it took to play the game but to him it was just a game in the end. He could tell by the look on Lizzie's face that this was pretty important to her. She always had ideas of how Nigel could improve himself and that was one of the things that he really valued about their relationship but he often found a hard time accepting that the things that she suggested were really things which were good for him.

"Well, lovey, if it means that much to you."

"YES!" She gushed, "You should! The quarterback's name is Chad Dickson and I think you should get to know him. He would be a great influence for you; he's got all the coolest people that hang out with him! He's going to be something someday Nigel! He'd be a much better influence than Hoakie!"

Nigel glanced over to see Hoagie desperately trying to keep from spilling his soft drink, which he had filled to the brim as per usual. Shortly after, he witnessed Hoagie fail in this attempt.

Could Lizzie be right? Was the popular and more accepting path the more correct? Anyone could compromise themselves to be like the crowd around them. What about the struggle? What about swimming upstream and forging your own path? Why was there such a bent towards trying to make everyone the same?

"…and that's why they like him so much, I think. What do you think?" Lizzie asked, her chin resting in her clasped hands which were resting on the table.

Nigel had no idea what she had just said. He was lost in evaluating what she had said about being more like the powers that be.

"Were you even listening to me Nigel?" she asked sharply.

Nigel began to stammer.

"What were you thinking about? Is it another girl, Nigel? I knew that this would be trouble! There are so many new and pretty girls here and I knew it would be difficult for you".

"What?" Nigel said, horrified, "No! Lizzie, we've been together for a long time now! I'm not like that? Why would you say that? Don't you trust me? I love you!"

Lizzie batted her eyes towards Nigel, "So…you'll try out for the football team?"

"Hey Lizzie, do you mind handing me my spiral?" Hoagie interrupted.

Hoagie was standing at the end of the table pointing over Lizzie's dramatic act towards his worn spiral which was lying in the booth next to her. "After all," he said, "Should that fall into the wrong hands, who KNOWS what they would use it for!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, picked up the spiral and launched it across the room. She stood up and stomped away without saying anything.

"Thanks bud," Nigel said.

"No prob," Hoagie smiled.

"You dropped this," said a small and soft voice from behind Hoagie.

Nigel and Hoagie both turned to see that same blond haired girl holding the spiral and smiling ear to ear; her blue eyes were glowing like stars over the ocean at night.

"Oh, thanks" Hoagie said quietly and took the spiral from her.

"No problem Hoagie," she said, turning to Nigel, "Nigel! Do you remember me? We used to play together as kids?"

Nigel straightened up in his seat. "No, I'm afraid I do not remember you. You grew up here in D.C.?"

The girl nodded, keeping her eyes locked into Nigel's.

"Yes, when we were in elementary school. Believe it or not, Hoagie was there also."

Hoagie was standing behind her and at this point started trying not to laugh. They had just met a month, or so, ago when college started. Nigel just ignored his antics and kept listening.

"Anyway, we played together as kids and we actually were part of a club? Does any of that ring a bell?"

Nigel shook his head slowly and stared at her through his dark shades. There was nothing that she was saying that sounded familiar or even made any amount of sense. He had never seen this girl and knew nothing about her except for her having an unusual story, considering that she didn't know his name previous to this or Hoagie's and yet she insisted that they were old colleagues. What if it were true? Could it be possible that here are three seemingly total strangers and yet they were actually friends in elementary school? If it were true, what would that mean that now, suddenly, and indiscriminately they would be meeting back up again? Was it coincidence? Was it more?

Was it destiny?

"I don't have any memory of this and I've only recently met Hoagie, so you must have the wrong person."

She looked at him un-fazed, "You wouldn't necessary remember because your memory would have been erased. Hoagie's would have been erased as well."  
Hoagie was really making faces behind her back now.

"Our exploits as children didn't last very long. We didn't have the proper organization; after all we were only kids. Also, our motives and ambitions were good; we were just before our time. The technology wasn't all that great either, so there is a chance that the part of you I'm talking about would be able to power through the memory block. I was hoping that if you recognized me, it would trigger it".

"If our memories would have been erased, how come you supposedly recognize me?" Nigel asked.

"They didn't erase my memory…in case we were ever needed again."

Nigel got up out of the booth and grabbed his books. That was all he needed to hear.

"I don't know you, sorry…."

"…Rachel…" she said softly.

"Yes, sorry Rachel, I don't know and I think you've got the wrong guy" he said as he started walking off. Rachel started to follow after him and so did a bewildered Hoagie. They stepped out into the bright sunlight of the student lounge but as Nigel started to walk faster, Rachel started to get in front of him, blocking his way.

"Listen Nigel, think about it and let me know. I don't live on campus and I don't own a cell phone. However, if you want to get ahold of me, go to the admin office and ask for Fanny Fulbright. She's my best friend and she can let me know you want to talk more."  
"She works in the admin office?" he asked, exasperated.

"Yes, she's a paper pusher for the disciplinary counselor. She tracks down the students that need to be expelled."

Nigel nodded and looked around, "Sure", he muttered, "Sure thing".

Lizzie apparently hadn't gone too far when she left because Nigel spotted her about sixty yards away. The last thing Nigel needed was for her to see him with another girl; that never seemed to work out in Nigel's favor, no matter who the other girl was. Nigel could remember an embarrassing time where they were all at the beach and Lizzie was SO sure that Nigel was interested in a red headed girl that was also at the beach. It was true that Nigel was seen with this girl, talking, walking and goofing around. It was also true that this red headed girl was Nigel's cousin. Nigel panicked and tried to turn the other way and noticed that surprisingly the blond headed girl was already walking off.

That was it? That was all she wanted? What was this nonsense about not having cell phones? It was true that Nigel had a deep seated hatred for cell phones because he felt that they prematurely made his life busy. They were a necessary evil…or were they? Certainly they seemed to be, but here was a person who didn't have one. They didn't succumb to the pressures of society and fall in step with the cultural demands. Was that possible? After all, who dictated that people had to constantly be networked and preoccupied? Was it something worse? Was it distraction?

"Who was that Nigh-gey?" said a shrill cooing voice from behind him.

"Oh! Hey Lizzie," Nigel said, whirling around and red in the face, "I don't know, just someone that thought that they knew me".

Lizzie was quiet…for a moment.

"Well," she said, starkly, "Don't go trying to meet any girls around here Nigel. Somehow, we need everyone to know that you're taken."

Nigel started to get frustrated.

"Excuse me? Lizzie, I just said that was someone that thought they knew _me. _I didn't seek her out, she came to me, and I don't know her anyway, so what's the big deal?" he said exasperated.

"Nigh-ey" Lizzie whined in a high pitched voice, "Since when is our relationship not a big deal? We get to college and suddenly everything is not a big deal? When we were we high school, EVERYTHING was a big deal! There wasn't enough time then and there's not now!"

She stormed off before Nigel had a chance to respond as she often did. Nigel felt bad and wanted to chase her down but he was going to be late to class if he did, so he started to walk across the street to his next class. It was the pressure of everything that they had been through, with a new college agenda and the lack of the freedom that high school provided them. There was a lot to be said for the carefree lifestyle that they had before college; there was a lot more time, energy and…well….dreams.

What ever happened to that? What happened to the dreams that were to be had as a child? Why the haste in growing up? Why the pressure to fall in line and be a cog in the wheel? Why was there a surrender of childhood hopes and dreams? It seemed to be like a whirlpool that was constantly tugging at his ankles; the thought that no matter what happened, there reached an age where we was no longer allowed to look at the world the same way. Morals became skewed, hopes and dreams became childish distractions, and the world became cold, indifferent, and harsh. Was that really the way it is or light spring out of the darkness once again? Justice was an old world concept but was it intangible? Everyone seemed to crave the calm and pleasantness of yesterday but the world was changed simply because "times had changed". Could the clock be reversed?

The world wasn't a lost cause hurling to destruction, it was calling, begging, to be restored. The innocence and honesty found in childhood was the key to restoring the darkness of the world and Nigel would do anything to protect it.

Just as he was having these moments of revelation, the door of his classroom, just out of reach, shut and he was late for class.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Nigel opened the door forcefully and marched through it.

It was just a few short days since he walked into this class late the first time. The first time, he had an earth shattering epiphany, this time it was just simple procrastination. Everyone stared as he clumsily searched for his seat. Red faced, Nigel sat down in the first open seat he saw. Abigail was on the other side of the room and Nigel saw her roll her eyes, to which Nigel responded by shooting a fierce glance in her direction, staring her down behind his glossy black shades. The professor was struggling to get out of his seat as he was quite rotund.

"All right you young and impressionable students" he said with a loud boisterous voice, "I'm your guest speaker today, as your regular professor is absent…today…., as you probably surmised. My name is Professor Edward Smalls."

"More like, Professor Triple Extra Large!" snorted a student in the second row.

"Young man," the Professor barked, almost drowned out by the class laughter, "If you want to pass yourself as an intelligent student at this prestigious university you should probably not broadcast your stupidity. Now where was I?"

Nigel gave an angry look at the blond kid who was looking around the room and soaking in the laughs. After the kid grimaced back, Nigel began to tune out. There wasn't much of anything to learn from a substitute especially in a class like this. His point was only proven further as the substitute painfully stuck with using snow cones for examples of chemistry problems despite the imagery failing to make any sense. Nigel was more shocked at the boldness of the student who had made such rude comments. There is no way that something like that would have been said a few years ago, even if the students were thinking it.

That was just a small example of what Nigel was beginning to notice everywhere since he had wondered about the corruption he was witnessing. What was the source of this pressure? Why was everyone so…angry?

Class flew by and as everyone started getting out of their seats and filing out of the door. The blond headed kid was standing just outside of the door way in a huddle with a few other kids. They were all wearing football jerseys and looked older than the other freshmen in the class, even though they probably weren't. As Nigel started to walk by, he felt something tug at the books under his arm and they all suddenly slid out on the floor.

Nigel spun around to see the blond headed tall kid laughing and "high fiving" his teammates. Nigel's books and papers were all over the floor.

"What' the big idea?" Nigel asked angrily and started to get into the tall kid's face.  
"Excuse me?" came the reply, "I know you're not talking like that to me!"

Suddenly, a crowd gathered around when they heard raised voices and the usual chatter in the hallway fell to a dead silence.

"You bet I was," Nigel said, glaring at the kid through his black shades, "What's the deal with picking on everyone? Is that the type of guy you are? A bully?"

"Actually," was the smug response out of a smug looking face, "I'm Chad Dickson. You probably recognize me because I'm the new star quarterback for the Gallagher football team and if you want to make it at this school, if you want to have friends, you'll probably treat me with a little respect!"

Nigel waved his hand and scoffed, "That's like asking travel directions from someone who's never left their mom's basement. I'm not going to ask for advice on how to make friends from someone who's scraping at the bottom of the barrel."

Several of the nerds and geeks in the hallway started clapping, having been bullied by the football team for a while. They had certainly never seen anyone talk to Chad the way this bald guy did.

Chad looked around and saw that he was outnumbered and started to push his friends on the shoulder to get moving.

"Class act, baldy!" he said as they filed out of the hallway.

Nigel picked up his books and papers as the rest of the hallway went back to their usual chatter. That was Chad Dickson? That was the football player? That was the person that Lizzie kept raving about?

Nigel adjusted his black shades and walked out of the building and started down the crowded sidewalk to his next class.

He could see her coming from a mile away, or in this case, all the way from the administration office and up the steps. That same blond headed girl was standing at the top of the steps trying to hold her shoulder length hair from blowing in her face. She was looking out across the sea of students walking to and from class but her gaze was on something else, something distant.

Nigel kept his head low and his eyes protected behind his glossy black shades. His little episode, moments before, did not put him in the greatest mood to deal with her today. Despite his efforts, she spotted him and began to walk right towards him. Something fell in Nigel's soul as he knew this encounter would be just as awkward as all the rest but at least Lizzie wouldn't be a witness to it.

"Hey Nigel!" the blond said with a sunny smile and a wave of the arm.

Nigel tried to push through the crowd and escape but there was an overwhelming gaggle of people that were accomplishing no obvious goal other than keeping Nigel from his.

"Good afternoon Nigel!" the girl said again politely, "Have you given it any thought? Do you remember me?"

Nigel glanced over at her which only prompted her to ask again. Nigel gave up and turned completely around to walk past her.

"You don't remember me?" she begged, grabbing his arm and stopping him.

Nigel pulled his shades off with a flick of his wrist and glared at her.

"Yes, I remember you from a week or two ago at Lime Ricky's and a few hundred times before that, but before those moments I have no memory of any kind and why should I? What's this all about?" he snapped.

The girl's face shattered into sadness.

"Sorry," she said, turning away, "I guess it's a case of mistaken identity. I guess I thought you were someone you're not".

Something kicked Nigel's soul and he couldn't explain it. Was it the mystery in her eyes? Was it the panic in her trembling voice? Something told him to listen; give her audience; and if asked, to follow her to whatever dark corners her urgency required. Something told him to take heed because as frightening as it sounded and as unlikely as he wanted to believe, somewhere deep inside there was a familiarity. Was it familiarity or was it fate? There really was only one way to find out.

"I'm sorry… that was out of line". He half whispered, snapping his shades back on.

She turned with a wanting smile on her face and a look of hope in her glistening eyes. The wind brushed her golden hair from her face and wiped away what remnants of tears remained. She was not frivolous or idle but stern and to the point and her mission was very important to her. She would not have taken the leap in confiding in Nigel if she weren't absolutely positive of what she was doing.

"Tell me how we supposedly know each other." Nigel said reluctantly.

The blond girl started to talk and then grabbed Nigel's hand started pulling him off the beaten pathway and over to the grass in an awkward way that almost made Nigel reconsider his decision to listen.

"My name is Rachel McKenzie and I'm trying to save the world. We used to know each other when we were kids, but that was a very long time ago. We were part of a clandestine organization back then, The Kids Command of Defense: KCD. Does any of that ring a bell?"

Nigel shook his head and pursed his lips, irritated.

"Basically, we were a group of kids who recognized the adult tyranny that takes place on a daily basis, right in front of us. A tyranny that passive adults are conditioned to ignore; tyranny ranging from the economy and political power, to social engineering and global efforts, we monitored it all and we were good at it. We had field agents that fought against tyranny and we made a difference in the world."

Nigel chuckled, "…And we met in tree houses and wore battle armor made of common household items, right?"

Rachel's face fell, "Yeah, something like that….actually…"

Nigel began to lose interest, "Surely you don't expect me to believe something like that! I remember my childhood very well and I recall it being a good one, not laced with tyranny."

Rachel's eyes narrowed and she thrust her head up with confidence, "I don't recall any one under tyranny actually believing that they are under tyranny".

Nigel shifted his weight to his other foot, "Now listen, you expect me to believe that all adults are evil? Are you listening to what you are saying?" Nigel was walking side by side with Rachel and they started to walk off the campus and down the side walk towards the shopping district. Nigel was having trouble trying to figure out what she was _really_ trying to say.

"No, not all adults are bad. You didn't hear what I said before. There were passive adults and aggressive adults. What we labeled as passive adults, were conditioned to believe the smoke screen that was contrived by the tyrannical adults; those in positions of power. There are tyrants everywhere Nigel, the personality traits are hard to miss."

As they walked there were the usual sights visible throughout the store fronts. There were people walking down the sidewalk, magazine stands with business, street vendors selling their wares. There was an ice cream vendor with a small stand and a silly looking umbrella, faded by many summers, sticking out of the top of it. The thing that seemed out of the ordinary to Nigel was the way that the ice cream man was staring at them. He was serving some children that had come to the kiosk, but he was very clearing watching the two with great intent. Was he some sort of creep? His thick and filthy "coke-bottle" glasses barely covered up his squinting eyes that were peering out straight to them. His uniform seemed a bit too small and his bucked teeth were in twisted into a scowl, or maybe it was just Nigel's imagination.

"Nigel," Rachel said patiently, "Did you hear what I was saying?"

Nigel started, "Oh sorry Rachel, I just…" he looked back at the ice cream man who was smiling and handling the children ice cream with absolutely no interest that he had been showing just moments before. Yet Nigel was so sure that he had been staring them down; he had _followed_ them with his eyes as he walked down the street.

"…I just….nothing I guess." He said confused, "I thought that ice cream man had…."

Rachel cut him off, "Ice cream man? Where?"

Nigel nodded towards him and Rachel followed his gaze. When she recognized the ice cream man out of the crowded streets she grabbed Nigel's arm and turned him slightly.

"You know what," she said calmly, "I'm hungry and you look like you probably have a couple bucks, why not buy me a cheeseburger?"

She pulled him into the nearest store front which happened to be the Burger Frenzy, a local hamburger shop which was pretty famous among the college students. They ordered something and resumed their conversation as they were eating.

Rachel sat across from him while he sipped on a milkshake straw. "Let's play a word association game, Nigel. I'm going to say two words and I want you to tell me, respectively, the first thoughts that pop into your head? Got it?"

Nigel nodded, still sipping.

"Liberty and tyranny" she said, nonchalantly.

"Good and evil" he said poignantly.

"Very good," Rachel said, without skipping a beat, "You are among the few who still think in those terms. Good and evil are very much tangible elements in the world in which we live, but the vast majority of people have cast those ideas of as archaic and metaphysical. We used to live in a world which was defined by light and dark; good and evil, but those days have passed and we have been given a world in which those lines are subjective and blurred. Now the powerful places in the world are cast somewhere in between light and dark."

"Shadow, in other words", he said straightly.

"Exactly, and I believe that this aura of shadow has allowed for some very powerful people to slip in behind the stage and begin to pull at the strings which control our society. We are used to rules and standards, are we not? Even at a young age, as children, we were constantly told to come inside at a curfew, eat our vegetables, see the doctor, etc., and why? I think it's obvious that we are told so because our parents want the best for us.

However, what about the rules we are supposed to follow as adults? What about the societal conditioning of being told which careers are noble or which ones or bad? What foods we can and cannot eat? What foods are healthy and which ones are bad for us? Why are we told how we should and should not think, or what we should be motivated by? People look at me when I ask those questions, but a quick glance at the political public policy will reveal that these topics are at the heart and soul of the public debate.

Whenever we question these things, we're told we should simply follow what is "the best for us". We're told not to worry because people, supposedly more qualified than us, are on the case to solve what is best for us in life. Nigel, are you aware that the Orwellian idea of "hate speech" and the tyrannical push of so-called "tolerance" are in full acceptance by the culture _right now_? People are praised and punished by those criteria without even a second glance."

Nigel stirred a little in his seat

"Where do these ideas come from?" She continued, "We have these ideas, but who planted them? Our parents, our friends and family and others might be innocent from this treachery but I believe that there _are_ adults out there who have stacked the deck. There are people in powerful positions who have set the pieces of the chessboard in such a way that they create shadowy places for themselves to hide and plot in. _These people have created the society that best furthers their own personal interests. _Think about it Nigel, if this scenario does exist then it would require an environment of complacency and blurred lines to function properly. I give you a quote from Samuel Adams: 'A general dissolution of principles and manners will more surely overthrow the liberties of America than the whole force of the common enemy. While the people are virtuous they cannot be subdued; but when once they lose their virtue then will be ready to surrender their liberties to the first external or internal invader'. These particular people know their history and understand the nature of the natural man."

Nigel rubbed his bald head, weighing the consequences of what she was saying, "And all adults are involved?"

Rachel shook her golden locks and closed her blue eyes momentarily, "No, not everyone, that's the point. This arena belongs to a select few, a small community of people who are outside of the spectrum. These people have conditioned society through television, communication, and the propaganda of the mass media to accept certain so-called truths and our society changes generationally because of it. We are told from the top down how to live, breath, function and think in society and when we don't conform, we are ostracized by the media or identified as a threat. Reality television, for example, has been developed by these people to create stereotypes in which we feel we must live in. We feel we need a bigger house, boat, car, etc. and we just go along with it! We want it! It seems like society has been painted in such a way that now people crave dependency. This is not natural though, it goes against everything that makes us separate from the animal kingdom. It is not American nature; it is not human nature."

Nigel was shocked that all of this was coming from the mouth of someone who he thought for sure was just having a hard time adapting to college life. She was asking some pretty important questions that required some consideration, but the consequence would be difficult to ascertain and almost infinite in its spectrum.

"What you are saying sounds almost too big to be possible" he said, eating a hand full of fries.

Rachel leaned across the table, closer to Nigel, "If it's true Nigel, then it's a conspiracy of global magnitude. It's one that reaches into the lives of every man, woman and child on the planet. It affects every person's life, no matter how small the influence."

"Who would be behind something like that?"

Rachel leaned back and shook her head, "That's just it, I don't know. That's what I need help with Nigel. I'm not talking about your average thief and thug here; I'm talking about people who are diabolically motivated. I'm talking about people who don't injure with their hands but with their heads. These people had different goals but they have one singular purpose: tyranny. Have you ever heard of the idea of utopia?"

Nigel nodded and leaned in a little closer himself. "Sure, it's a philosophical idea that some believe is a tangible objective".

"True," Rachel said, "but any realist will tell you that it is merely a philosophical idea. That plant that usually rises from the seed of this attempt is tyranny instead of utopianism. Yet, society still craves it though it might go by different names. They might call it social peace, or world peace, or security, or they will use Wall Street, the economy or any other economical mile stone that you want to describe where they can have people believing that if they just _follow the system_ then they will have that utopia which they crave.

The people who would risk life and limb of the common people to achieve this goal are the criminals I'm talking about. They are utopians in their philosophy but they are tyrannical in their methods. These people have used the shadows of cultural acceptance, tolerance, and greed, to rise above the common culture into places of power and influence and as long as they keep the populace asleep with materialism and the weight of achieving utopia, their evil deeds will go unnoticed and without accountability. It's not aggressive tyranny Nigel, it's a passive tyranny and it's the hardest to detect and the most difficult to overcome."

Nigel pursed his lips and looked grimly into Rachel's intense eyes. What she was saying was methodically true, if such a thing did exist, it would be the greatest threat to freedom worldwide.

"These utopian soldiers, these puppet masters, they are the criminals of who I speak; they are true villains. Have you noticed how we are slowly moving towards a people who are more geared towards operating within social parameters and guidelines as opposed to innovating and creating? These things are enemies to the utopian idea because they do not conform to the wants and desires of the utopians. You can see the little changes here and there until we are basically a machine grinding for these masterminds and not for ourselves; not for our individuality and through that the community, but for the whim of these people who pull the strings."

Nigel took a drink of his soda and nodded slowly, "So what do we do about it? You're talking about 'top-down' attack; it sounds like the answer is a 'bottom-up' counterattack."

"We need to get the world to awaken, Nigel," she said with an optimistic smile, "We need to be that catalyst. When we were young, there were no limitations to our determination and faith. As we got older, the world got a lot smaller and grounded. It is that youthful innocence, hope and faith that anything is possible. Nigel, we need to resist the utopian temptation and help people to realize that it is better to rely on self than these masterminds who are ever promising and yet not able to deliver. The journey is going to be long though, Nigel, and it is going to be difficult. It's going to take a long time to track these people down and even longer to show the world that life without handouts is superior. However, once we allow the light of freedom to awaken that inner youthful spirit of determination and ambition, the rest will fall into place."

Nigel felt a chill run down his spine. Rachel was affirming what he already felt in the world around him. People were almost in a walking coma; unaware of the opportunity that lay all around them. Were there people who were stacking the deck? Could such a thing exist?

"These masterminds, who are they? Rather, what _type_ of people are they?"

Rachel shrunk back in her seat a little. "Nigel, we are talking about people who have altered past, present and future to provide a stage for their plot of global domination to unfold upon. These masterminds are most likely not like any "people" we could imagine. We are going to chase the darkness itself; we must forge ahead into flame and shadow. I don't expect that we will find any sort of "people"; I suspect that we will find monsters and demons. To answer your questions simply, I don't know what they look like or where they hide. We will just have to follow the evidence…wherever it leads."

Nigel felt his heart swell into his chest; _follow the evidence wherever it led_. It would be difficult but who else would attempt such a challenge? If it were true, then someone needed to spark the world to awake. Someone needed to be the hero and bear the burdens. Could Nigel be strong enough? Did he have the resolve to continue the struggle? If it turned out to be everything that Rachel said it was then it would no doubt be a bloody and demanding war. If Nigel knew one thing about war it was that minds would begin to change when the stomachs began to turn. If they were going to tackle these demons in the dark, they would need to stay committed until the job was done. They would have to be willing to take the hits after they came again and again. If they decided to do this and weren't willing to risk it all, then they were already defeated. Rachel had quoted Samuel Adams to him earlier, but he was thinking about a quote from one of his famous country men, Winston Churchill: "A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality".

"If you decide that you want to help me save the world Nigel, meet me on the Arlington Memorial Bridge tomorrow at 0630 hours", she said, while a still, small voice echoed back to him that in spite of the obstacles, the dangers, Nigel had to do what he must.

The sun was rising over the Potomac; at the edge, where it spilled into the horizon. Nigel was standing on the edge of the bridge looking out over the river. There was so much history in the capital of America and Nigel was in the middle of it. There were monuments to great men who had stood the test of their generation. They were men who were dedicated to the truth and did not shirk from it. They were giants, who had stood head and shoulders above those who would back down and hide and they served their generation with valor. They had peered into the heart of tyranny and offered the people of the young and vulnerable colonies of America a more superior way based upon intrinsic equality and liberty. Though they were small, their rag tag group of determined warriors held the most powerful Empire, at that time, at bay. Nigel felt the chill of the Atlantic breath down his red sweater and down his back. _Could he do the same?_ Anyone who called themselves a patriot of freedom could be called upon at any time to fight for what they believed, yet so many relinquished the battle in time of peace, never mind when the trumpets of war sounded. There was such a push towards these utopian ideals that Rachel had been explaining and drawing his attention to, did he have what it took to reverse course? The world was being devoured by these master villains who had the sway of the weaker minded and the dependent.

"I knew you would be here", a voice said, which startled Nigel's thoughts.

Nigel turned his head slightly and answered with a stern look through his coal black shades, "I won't easily back down".

Rachel McKenzie was walking towards him from a few paces off. She was dressed very professionally in a slim, toned down color of turquoise pants and grey heels matched with a rich orange sweater that came down almost to her knees with a few tiger stripes on the arms and the sides. The collar of her turtleneck, a brighter color of turquoise, stuck up out of her collar slightly. Her golden hair fell at her shoulders and rustled slightly in the wind but none of it was comparable to her icy blue eyes which glowed in the sun.

"No, in the past you never did and I'm certain you never will." She said as she got closer. She looked out over the bridge with Nigel as the sun was rising. "We're about to embark towards a great task, Nigel. We are planning a philosophical revolution that will strike at the consciences of men. We are planning to tear at the veneer that these villains have used to coat the eyes of men's discerning and that will come with weighty consequence. We will no doubt rally many to our cause as it becomes more evident that the world needs saving, but not at the beginning. If this is going to succeed, we must be wholly dedicated; we cannot waiver in the slightest."

Rachel was certainly a girl of mixed signals. Her personality was strong, soldier-like, and overly professional and it clashed with her obvious femininity. Her sentences were curt and to the point and with each phrase, Nigel felt more and more inspired. Rachel was a born leader; there was no doubt about it. Nigel believed every word she was saying and new that these crowds _would _come, they would march to the violent heartbeat of Rachel's passion: that all men deserved to be free.

She looked into Nigel's eyes but was met with his cold and dark shades. "Will you be committed to this, Nigel?"

Nigel smiled with as much confidence as he had ever felt; his heart swelling into his chest. "I've had the night to think it over and I think it's worth diving into to. I already feel the pressure of society to get me to fit into a mold and I just can't do it. If there is a world where I do not have to be told what to eat, what kind of car to drive, what types of light bulbs I should have in my home, then that's something I want to be a part of. If we can pull this off, if we can show the world the power of liberty, then life will never be the same. I've seen this world, I've experienced it, and I'm never going back. If you can prove, beyond reasonable doubt, that what you are telling me is true, I'll fight to the ends of the earth. I will track these villains down and fight them myself. Like Paul Revere, I'll work my way into the hearts and minds of the common person and sound the alarm so they can taste a life of self-reliance.

The people that founded this country weren't founding a country alone. They were crafting the blueprints for a lifestyle that would achieve the closest thing to perfection we would get: one of self-reliance and self-determination. If this is the challenge that I must face, I will face it."

A small and warm smile danced across Rachel's face, "You want some ice cream?"


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rachel and Nigel got into Rachel's sporty little roadster and drove back towards the college. Nigel said nothing the whole time that Rachel was driving; he was just staring out the window. This was it….this was what he had been waiting for. Part of him hoped that the horrific story that Rachel was laying out before him wasn't true. Yet, a bigger part of him hoped it was absolutely true…and he would stop it.

"Why ice cream?" he finally said.

Rachel kept one hand on the steering wheel as she reached down to shift to the next gear. She glanced at him at of the corner of her eye

"I believe that ice cream men, at least in this area, are up to more than just frozen treats. In fact, I believe that it's nothing less than cover for what they are really trying to accomplish."

Nigel looked over at her over the rim of his dark shades.

"I believe," she continued without returning the favor, "That they are an undercover surveillance team, with possible military ties or experience, gathering intelligence on certain people. Think about it Nigel, there are some high profile people in this area of D.C. There are senators, lobbyists, C.E.O.'s, lawyers, and even higher profile people than that. An ice cream man could move in and out of these areas and conduct surveillance and gather information without even a second glance. Besides, it would give them access to these high profile people's children, which could be useful if they ever needed a bargaining chip."

"Evidence?" he asked.

"Always the logician," she said laughing, "Of course; there were two cases. One involving a fairly high profile city council member whose was gunned down with his own weapon in a home invasion attempt. Second, there was an accountant at a bank here in town whose house burned to the ground last year; different people, different deaths, and different times of the same year.

Nigel nodded skeptically, "Go on…"

"Well, the common thread is a fact that is known only to a few, observant journalists. There was a political hearing that was coming up in the latter part of the year of which both of those victims were scheduled to testify or, at least in the accountant's case, provide evidence; evidence which was probably burned in the fire and amongst the stolen goods which were never recovered…if they ever were stolen in the first place.

Nigel shook his head, "Wait, nobody reported this?"

Rachel shot a glance out of her eye, "It depends on who is doing the reporting. Don't think for one second that if there _is_ something superficial going on that the media would have been left unaccounted for. It's an even lesser known fact that right before the assassinations, there were ice cream men, from this same group of ice cream men, who spent quite a bit of time in the area. Then, after this shooting and fire…they were never to be seen in that area again".

Nigel shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was skeptical when it came to coincidences, but this almost seemed like a fine line between reason and madness. There was a chill that ran down his spine when he considered how more often than not, there always seemed to be a thin veneer between the evil of the everyday event and the evil that drove it; the everyday madness and the inhuman savage that lie dormant in every human.

Nigel nodded slowly, "You've obviously given this quite a bit of thought; you think that this is a good place to start?"

Rachel nodded as she weaved in and out of traffic, "Yes, I've been watching and researching for the last several years now. That's my passion and my pastime, Nigel, I watch the news. I know, it's nerdy, but you would be amazed at how much interesting information that is available out there. We live in an age of such great communication the average kid with a cell phone can basically access the most valuable of secrets. In trying to uncover these masterminds, I've been following the breadcrumbs but I've recently hit a road block. I've also began be attacked, but that just within the last few months. It is as if the attacks get stronger if I try to dig deeper. I've had attempts to hack my files, delete my hard drive and viruses that have been put on my computer, so I must be getting close."

Nigel pulled his shades off to clean them on his red sweater. "And you think that the ice cream men are the next avenue; breadcrumbs indeed!"

"Well," Rachel said nonchalantly, "Breadcrumbs are all there has ever been and most likely all there ever will be but we need to follow them and see just how far the rabbit hole goes! I can analyze the breadcrumbs all I want but I feel we'll only really begin to make a difference if we start moving into broader field work. Right now, I'm the only one doing the work and no matter how good I get at it, I can't be in two places at once. I need boots on the ground that can react to all the information that I've been gathering, or else this is a waste of time. Plus, you're already wearing boots!"

Nigel was hit with a sudden realization, there was more to this girl than met the eye. "Who is "_we"_? I just now told you that I would be on board."

Rachel smiled coyly just as the car moved out of the shadows and into a sunny patch of road, making her face sparkle in the sun. "Actually, I've been working with a few different people on this; I'm trying to revive the old Kids Command of Defense and that is why I need you. You're a leader, Nigel; you're a fighter and a crusader and quite possibly the only person who can lead the rest of them. We'll rebuild everything in time, but I need someone to set the pace for the rest of the future operatives."

Nigel laughed, "I was made a leader, because I'm the son of a business manager. I didn't choose this path, I didn't even want it, and I don't see how I could achieve something like that."

Rachel took her eyes off the road just long enough to pierce Nigel's soul with them.

"I'm not asking you to do what you were made to do, I'm asking you to do what you were born to do." She said with a stony voice. "You're definitely a soldier and that's what we need you to be".

"Who else is involved?" Nigel asked, shrugging off the compliment with humility.

"Fanny, for one," Rachel said, "You know, the girl that works in the admin office. She and a few others, you'll have a chance to meet them once we are able to set up base. Right now we're just meeting in the old Sprinkle Puff Donut Shop near 7th Street. Fanny knows the owner and he is letting us rent it out as a "study hall"."

Rachel began to slow down as they turned down 7th Street. It was a small stretch of old school style shopping venues. The buildings stood shoulder to shoulder as people walked up and down the old brick sidewalks in front of the stores. Off to the side sat a small building that looked like a diner and on the front in large cartoon style letters spelled out the name of the derelict donut shop.

Rachel pulled the roadster into a small lean to garage that was attached to the back of the shop and got out of the car. Nigel followed suit while looking around the garage. There wasn't much in it, just some empty shelves and some home improvement material such as drywall material, paint, and some wood tools.

Rachel was standing at the entrance to the garage with her hands on her hips. "You coming?"

Nigel smiled and stuffed his hands into his sweater pockets as he starting walking towards her. They started walking away from 7th Street and started walking into the neighborhood amidst some old and large houses. There was certainly money in this part of town but it was also D.C., there was money everywhere. There were people who had made their money legitimately and certainly less than legitimate. They were located in an area on the other side of the Potomac River and away from the Washington Mall area. It was quieter in their part of the neighborhood and even quieter near the university which was even further away.

The faint jingle of an ice cream truck was heard in the distance.

"Personally," Rachel said, breaking the silence, "I think the ice cream men are in this area more because I've been spotted by them quite a bit in the other areas. I've slipped up a little bit trying to canvas all areas and learn their routes and I think they recognize me more and more these days. I think they are getting suspicious. Anyway, don't you think it's odd that they are still in full swing even though we're clearly headed into fall?"

Nigel nodded and kept looking around for the approaching ice cream truck.

"Plus, last year, I think I've seen the same ice cream men around for hire trying to hang Christmas lights and sell hot chocolate. How strange is that?"

Nigel stopped in the road, "I don't know Rachel that sounds pretty normal to me. I mean, if they can't make money with the ice cream, wouldn't it stand to reason that they would attempt to make money in some other way?"

Rachel stopped and faced him, "Or to ensure that they can stay in the same area. They're constantly in the same neighborhoods day in and day out with these methods. I first started to suspect them when I noticed a string of perfectly executed robberies, robberies that baffled the cops because it was almost as if the person who committed these crimes had their eyes on the whole area, constantly. It was if whoever committed these robberies knew who was leaving their house at what time, what time the potential witnesses would be home, etc. The police never caught anyone in connection with those crimes, probably because they weren't in the neighborhoods all day like the ice cream men, and they had no idea who to suspect.

Still Nigel, a group of men like that don't band together for simple "break in's", they just do that because whoever hired them, hired thugs; and thugs do what is within their nature. They are here for the reasons I explained in the car…surveillance. They are here for some sort of bigger picture. I'm not concerned with the crimes they happened to commit because their lust and greed got out of control. I'm after the reason that they are here still, why they continue to stay here day in and day out in these areas; I want the guy who hired them". Then she turned and continued walking.

An ice cream truck pulled around the corner from the end of the street and crept slowly towards them. Rachel pulled a hand out of her pockets and started waving money towards the ice cream truck. It was small pink and white van with a large plastic ice cream cone on the roof. The truck kept creeping towards them, the windows too dirty to see through. Nigel felt his heart begin to beat faster as the tune of the ice cream truck began seemed to get more and more ominous; the obnoxious row was drowning out all music into an eerie singular silence. The guy driving the ice cream truck was a stocky man with a thick beard. His pink and white uniform _did _match the uniform that the ice cream man at the kiosk with the coke bottle glasses, was wearing. Could that be coincidence?

The truck was headed straight towards them but at the last minute turned down a side street that was accessible before he reached Rachel and Nigel. Nigel watched with awe as time seemed to slow down and the annoying ice cream jingle fell silent. The man driving had turned his head and was intently staring at Rachel and Nigel with an intimidating glare. It was pretty clear that he seemed to intentionally turn off the road instead of accept business for what seemed to be an eager customer.

Rachel turned with a crooked smile across her pale face. "See!" she said, "What was that all about? If you pay attention, it is as if all ice cream men do that. They seem to turn away from willing customers! Come on, let's cut him off!"

Nigel looked down and realized that at some point, most likely in the garage, Rachel had changed out of her heels and into tennis shoes. She started sprinting towards the houses and Nigel took off after her. They ran through the front yards and into the back yards. They cleared trampolines, playground equipment and ran behind sheds and into back alleys. They scaled fences and scrambled past trees and gardens. They kept an eye on the ice cream truck that was driving on the streets, parallel to their path, seemingly ignorant to the fact that he was being followed. They couldn't afford to lose it, if it was truly something that would lead them to the next answer.

They came to another street, a dead end, and stopped to catch their breath. Nigel looked up and saw the ice cream truck had turned down the same street and had coasted several feet before it came to a stop. It was obviously too late to turn somewhere else and there wasn't enough room in the street to turn around quickly.

"Give a distraction!" Rachel said and then ran off to the side. Nigel tried to watch to see where she was going but the loud noise of the ice cream truck careening in reverse towards him was more pressing. Nigel panicked and jumped up on the bumper as it was about to run over him. What was he going to do next? The force of the impact had almost knocked the wind out of him; had it not been for the handles on either side of the door, he would have fallen off. He reached down and found that the back door was unlocked. He wrenched it open, trying to fight the forces of gravity and inertia as the ice cream truck continued to back up wildly, bumping over the curbs and driveways.

Nigel pawed through the poorly stocked ice cream truck and tried to reach the side door. It was difficult enough just trying to keep from falling and bouncing around in the back. The ice cream man was really driving wild. Nigel could feel the van stop and lurch as the ice cream man started to drive forward…and fast. Nigel regained his composure and threw the side door open. He reached out and started to try and open the driver door. The man at the wheel was rocking about wildly in the cab, trying to see what Nigel was doing and keep an eye on the road at the same time.

Nigel reached out and grabbed a hold of the mirror on the outside. The ice cream man looked horrified and started to drive close to the mailboxes on the side of the road…dangerously close. Nigel's blood ran cold as he could almost feel the mailboxes rip out his spine as they inched closer and closer to them. Nigel reached into the open window and thrashed about his hand, trying to reach anything that might distract the man long enough to get away from the mailboxes. He hit the auto locks by accident and then realized that the passenger door immediately swung open. Rachel had somehow been on the other side of the truck the whole time, attempting, with greater success, something similar to what Nigel was trying to accomplish. That must have been what the ice cream man was trying to see when he was thrashing about, Rachel in the other mirror.

Rachel hopped into the passenger seat, holding a small object that she had pulled from her pocket that looked like a boxing glove attached to a gun handle. She leveled it at the ice cream man and it sprung out, hitting the ice cream man in the face and knocking him out cold.

The ice cream truck began to swerve closer to the mail boxes. Nigel pawed his way up and into the ice cream truck through the window at the last second; the mirror was tearing off mailboxes as they flew past. Due to the large size of the ice cream man, Nigel was falling in, head first, straight towards the floor boards. He reached over with a free hand and pushed on the brake pedal as hard as he could. The air began to fill with a screeching noise and the smell of burning asphalt as the ice cream truck lurched to a halt from its mad speed.

Nigel kept gripping the pedal until the truck stopped, bouncing over yards and running over flowerbeds. After the truck stopped, Nigel let go of the pedal and collapsed into the floor boards, panting hard. He tried to climb out of the floor board and got the door open, allowing for his escape and the unconscious fat ice cream man to tumble halfway out of the truck, held only by his seat belt.

"What was that all about?" Nigel said, gasping and adjusting his shades.

Rachel didn't seem out of breath or a hair out of place.

"That actually went a lot better than I thought it might. Come on Nigel, let's hurry up and find what we came for before the neighbors call the police."

Nigel and Rachel shuffled through the mess of fast food bags, cups, candy wrappers, maps, and paperwork that trashed the floor of the van. Finally Rachel shrieked while holding a paper up in the air.

"Here!" Rachel said, smoothing out the crumpled paper. "Look, here is a copy of the route that this particular truck makes. Here are certain houses highlighted, I bet that if we cross referenced the addresses, we would find these to be high profile targets. That is good evidence so far, let's see if we can find more."

"Wait," Nigel pointed out a house that had an asterisk by it and had "Mr. Frosty" written out to the side next to it, "What do you suppose that is?"

Rachel smoothed out the map again and looked slightly troubled.

"I've not been in that area much," Rachel said slowly and quietly, "But, I've never seen them hit that house on any normal route, from beginning to end, at any time."

"Maybe it's not something they want to be connected to…at least in broad daylight."  
Nigel said looking up, almost nose to nose with Rachel. He smiled, pleased that he at least had made some contribution to the investigation.

There were sirens in the distance.

"Come on Nigel, we had better get going. This at least will give us a start."

They climbed out of the truck and started towards the side walk. Rachel ran towards the mailbox where a trash bin was located. She opened the lid and started rummaging through it. Nigel looked around to see if anyone happened to be watching.

"Probably should hurry Rachel," he said.

"Just a sec, if they've already called the cops, they've already looked outside and are probably still at the phone, they've not seen us yet."  
She pulled out an empty beer carton, stuffed it with empty beer cans, and threw the whole lot into the back with a few extra empty cans in the cab for good measure.

"Ok," she said with a smile, "That should answer enough of the questions. We can go!"

Nigel watched her in disbelief as she pushed passed him and began to walk down the sidewalk.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Rachel kept a brisk pace as she was walking through the neighborhood back to the Sprinkle Puff Donut Shop. The police had passed them about five minutes ago on their way to the wreckage but didn't give them a second glance. Who would give a few kids a second glance? Nigel was still playing over the scene in his head…Rachel really _was_ cut out for this.

"What was that weapon you used back there?" Nigel said, breaking the silence.

"Oh that?" Rachel said with a side glance. She pulled it from her sweater pocket and handed it to Nigel. It was a youth boxing glove that had been weighted and attached into the socket of a small spring loaded extension lamp, the kind that might clip on the headboard of a bed and had a body that folded in on itself. The lamp was modified to be kept under tension and, by the release of the clip, the weighted boxing glove in the lamp socket would spring forward at a violent rate of speed.

"It's called a S.L.U.G.G.A.H, or at least that's what it used to be called by the KCD, I don't remember what the acronym stands for, or why it was named like that. It used to be standard issue under the leadership of Supreme Leader Number 100. It's pretty good for little operations like the one we just completed and for any close quarter situation. It's made to be deployed with little to no space. You can't get the same kind of velocity that you can with that weapon without swinging, but you don't always have the space to do that, like in the cab of an ice cream truck."

Nigel scratched his head, "Strange, but strangely effective."

Rachel laughed and pocketed the tool, "Yeah, but it's woefully outdated. We need some better technology. I was hoping you might be able to help me out with that also?"

Nigel's mind immediately flashed to Hoagie's precious blueprints, "Maybe…" he said nonchalantly.

"I'll take it, by your turning red, that you _can_ help me," Rachel said with a laugh.

Nigel decided that he was going to have to get better at this.

They continued to walk until the Donut Shop came into view.

"Let's go in, I think that some of the team is already here. I told them that we should be meeting here," Rachel said glancing down at her wristwatch, "We're a little late I guess."

They walked around the corner and walked through the main door. The inside looked derelict with dusty, empty shelves and chairs that had fallen over. It would be clear from the outside world that there was nothing inside; it was the perfect place to work in secret.

Nigel followed Rachel into what looked like a closet door that was to the back and it opened up into a stairwell. He followed her down the dimly lit and winding stairwell until they reached another door with a numeric keypad out to the side. Rachel rapidly punched in some numbers and the door slid open.

It was a large room with tables and chairs staggered in rows, a kitchenette off to one side and office desks on the other side with computers humming on them. It was simple, effective and pleasantly more advanced than Nigel expected. There might actually be a chance for them to make a difference in the world. If they could continue to pull off operations like the one that he and Rachel had just finished, they could continue the breadcrumb trail to wherever it led.

Could they really pull it off? Now that Nigel was meeting with the rest of the team at a hidden base. Now that he was aware that there were other like-minded people in the room, he began to get very nervous. This was the tipping point, there was no going back. Once they began to throw light into the dark corners of "powers that were", they would make themselves a target. It was do, or die.

"Ladies and Gents," Rachel started in a loud voice, breaking up the casual conversation, "I want you to meet Nigel Uno. He is going to be the leader of our "boots on the ground" division here in Virginia, designation: Sector V."

Nigel looked around the room and saw about fifteen people, most of whom he didn't know. There was a naturally pretty, freckle faced girl with lush, shock red hair covering half of her face. She was wearing a green sweater, a knee high bright orange skirt and large brown hiking boots. Her lips were pursed together as she seemed to stare through Nigel, clearly not impressed. Rachel decided to start introductions with her.

"Nigel, meet Frances, or Fanny, Fulbright, I know that I've mentioned her before but I guess this is the first time that you've met. Fan' is our Chief Tactician Officer."

Fanny was looking Nigel up and down; her lips were pursed in a skeptical look on her face.

"That's right, I'm the Chief Tactician Officer," she said in a thick, alluring, Irish accent, "Which means it's my job to make sure that the Kids Command of Defense stays a _secret_ organization. Our missions are going to require certain clearances ranging from local police to FBI and CIA, as well as distracting the local news from our exploits…all while remaining in the background, so it's up to me and my department to make sure it stays that way. So….don't make my job harder than it is, or I will give you concussion."

"Won't be too hard to remember that!" he said with a smile, which was not returned.

On the other side of the room stood a broad shouldered boy with thick, jet black hair, wearing a green zip-up jacket and coyote tan cargo pants. He sported an earthy, olive colored ski cap that set comfortably on the crown of his head. His squared jaw was locked into a position of determination; his brown eyes were piercing as they examined the newcomers. He had one hand in his jacket pocket and one holding onto the shoulder strap of his dark orange backpack. He was observing Nigel closely, but he didn't get to say anything.

"I am Herbert, the KCD Chief Communications and Logistics Officer!" said a screeching and whiny voice.

Nigel turned to see a chubby faced, rotund guy wearing all tan dress clothes, thick "coke bottle" glasses and a pocket protector stuffed with pens. Bucked teeth, with braces, calculator watch on one arm, and his shirt tucked in; he certainly seemed like he fit the bill for "logistics".

Nigel shook his hand and noticed that he was wearing a colander on his head.

"Is that a…?"

"Helmet?" The guy responded, "Yes, it is. All officers are required to wear them but present company seems to think they're excluded."

Nigel looked around, there were some colander looking helmets on table in the corner but Herbert was the only one wearing one.

"Well, you're not getting me to wear one, nerd," came a break in the silence from the oldest kid with the ski cap.

Herbert, hands on his fat hips, slowly turned to give the guy a squinty look and then focused his attention back on Nigel.

"As logistics officer, I am responsible for archiving all of the data, evidence, reports, logs, meetings, and making sure that this operation functions within acceptable parameters."

He jammed a huge binder in Nigel's gut.

"Speaking of which, here is your protocol," he said, not hardly stopping to breathe, "You will need to read it and follow it to the letter when filling out paperwork, mission debriefs, requests, transfers, etc. You need to follow it or…"

"You'll give me a concussion…" Nigel interrupted, "I got the drift".

The kid with ski cap happened to be taking a drink from his canteen right when Nigel said that line, and he spit his water everywhere with a choke and a laugh.

Herbert gave another sideways and squinty glare.

Rachel tried to hide her smile as she moved on the next guy who happened to also look like a nerd. He was a shorter averaged sized kid with wild carrot colored hair and a freckled face, he was wearing a purple collared shirt tucked into khaki shorts and also had bucked teeth and braces. He was holding a small tablet computer which he tucked into his long sleeved, white lab coat pocket when Nigel extended his hand.

"Greetings and salutations, Nigel!" the kid said with a smile, his lisp wasn't helping the image.

Nigel looked over at Rachel again, trying to keep from laughing and she looked as though she might kick him.

"My name is Gabe and I'm a science major at Gallagher University, like yourself and most of us here, I have dedicated precious time I could be at the lab or in class to serve the greater good. I am in charge of the R & D department here at the KCD and it is my job to mass produce any technology that we develop for future Sectors as well as analyze any evidence that might require a more…intelligent….approach." he paused as though he was waiting for the kid in the ski cap.

Nigel nodded, "Looking forward to working with you."

Rachel motioned towards a Japanese girl who had long, straight, and shiny black hair and was wearing an oversized green cardigan and black leggings. She sported bright green socks and black and white, classic looking sneakers. She had her sleeves pulled over her hands but she pulled a sleeve up to shake Nigel's hand. She had a soft smile and pleasant demeanor that Nigel felt reassured by.

"Nigel, this is Kuki Sanban and she's actually going to be working with Sector V".

Nigel shook her hand warmly, "It's good to have you on board, Kuki. What are your talents?"

"I've been tasked with being Sector V's Diversionary Operative which means I will mostly keep a bird's eye view on everything taking place in the mission such that I can keep all of us hidden when we need it. I'm a Tech major at Gallagher, so that's where my expertise lies."

Nigel was impressed.

"And let me just say," She continued, escalating in energy, "That I'm SO SUPER excited to be a part of this team," she started making a fanning motion to her face with her sleeved hand, "I'm super excited, I can hardly contain it!"

Nigel chuckled, "Well…I'm glad!"

There was a beeping noise as the door that Nigel and Rachel had entered in from had opened and closed.

"Hey team! What have we got?" yelled a loud and boisterous voice from the doorway.

Nigel turned around to see a tall and thin blond haired, older looking kid wearing football equipment and a jersey with the number "274" imprinted on the front and back. He had a football helmet in his hand and had the iconic black lines marked under his eyes. His wavy blond hair fell right above his eye line which he had to snap back out of his eyes to see clearly. It was the quarterback, Chad Dickson.

His blacked out eyes fell on Nigel who was standing straight and tall, peering through his glassy black shades.

"What the…" the guy said looking around the room, "What is this?"

The rest of the people were looking around and looking back and forth between the newcomer and Nigel. Rachel was looking at the floor.

"So this is the guy Rach?" he said tossing his helmet into an open chair. "_He_ is the guy you've been telling me about?"

Everyone looked at Rachel

"You guys know each other?" she said, not backing down.

"You might say that," Nigel said, without skipping a beat, "We've brushed shoulders before in the halls."

"Brushed shoulders?" Chad smirked, "This kid practically makes a show of himself every time we meet! I can't believe he's the guy you keep raving about."

Rachel started to turn red but Chad didn't stop.

"You always talk about his tenacity, his desire to get into the fray…him? Seriously, Rachel, what do you see in this guy?"

Nigel was fuming mad.

"Well," Nigel said calmly, "I guess we'll find out."

"Yeah," Chad said sarcastically, "I guess so. Mostly because I'm the Supreme Leader of the KCD and I demand a high caliber out of my team. I don't like the headstrong attitude I've seen in you already. I need a team player, can you be that Nigel?"

"Yes sir." Nigel responded humbly, slightly shocked at this new revelation.

"You'd better be," Chad said turned to face his teammates, "because out there you will get eaten alive by the villains we will face. I need to know that you will stand strong, not allowing your personal feelings to get in the way. We need someone who can take control of the endzone, go the whole nine yards and score touchdowns."

Chad had walked over to the helmet table and picked up a samurai style helmet that was towards the back. He placed it on his head and turned to face Nigel.

"I've got nothing personally against you Nigel; I just want you to succeed is all. Failure is not an option. The Samurai are a good example. I look to them for examples in how a life should be led, are you familiar with them?"

Nigel shook his head.

"They would rather take their own life than to suffer defeat, they believed so much in their cause. I would never advocate suicide but I AM advocating that type of devotion. We are talking about liberty versus tyranny here. We are talking about our mission to place ourselves squarely in the line of fire of those who will stop at nothing to consume the world in which we live. There must be unwavering courage and sureness of mission. I'm asking for you to be a true believer, Nigel, to devote it all to the cause we are about to embark on. The Leader of Sector V must be the soul of the team, and I hope you have it. The people in this room are already on track to making sure that there is a division of the KCD in every major country. Kuki, Gabe, and others are already working on getting a spy net up and running so that we are constantly connected. Gabe, you've already got a few satellites launched right?"

Gabe startled at hearing his name out of the blue and he nodded hastily. He started to explain that they were in testing phase but Chad cut him off, not paying attention.

"We've got something big here and this something is going to save the world one fight at a time. Rachel had the dream and I've made it happen by assembling the team you see before you. That's exactly what we are, a team. There are no "one man" operations here and I need you to see this Nigel, to understand that this is no personal crusade or cute societal cause; this is a struggle for survival…maybe even as a human race."

"Well", said a voice from the back, "That's why it's important to be prepared."

Everyone turned to see the older kid in the ski cap move from leaning on the table and walk towards Nigel. When he shook Nigel's hand, Nigel noticed a strong grip.

"The name is Patton…Patton Drilovsky and I'm in charge of recruitment and training. Any new recruits have to go through me and I WILL train them hard. They will be trained in hand to hand combat and they will undergo rigorous survival training in the event that they are stranded or captured. Chad, who certainly is the best at what he does, is here to make spies but I'm here to make soldiers."

The room was quiet.

"You're a fighter Nigel, despite what Chad may think, I know because I can see it in your eyes, straight through those black shades. Now take Rachel, she's solid gold and I would follow her to Hell and back, no question."

Rachel stared at the floor again, the red color leaving her face.

Patton continued, "If she sees potential in you, then it is because you really do have it. Your team though? We'll have to see, but if you are who Rachel believes you are, then your team is probably going to be pretty special."

He shifted his backpack to both shoulders.

"Still, I'm going to have to train them first. The problem is that I'm off to the Artic for a week where I'm scoping out some land I've been looking at for a secret base to use as a training facility and maybe a prison. After all, we're going to need some place to stash these villains until we know what to do with them. So when I get back and you have your team assembled, we're going to hit it hard and fast. Sir, you can count on me to take good care of your team."

Nigel nodded proudly and humbly.

Rachel moved towards Nigel, "Nigel, You'll spend the next week getting a team together; I'm sure you already have some people in mind. Kuki will help you archive everything to help Herbert out in his department and then when Patton returns, you guys will begin intense training. Between now and then, we're going to have an ice breaker mission with your team as soon as we get more information on what we've gathered from the ice cream truck. This will give us a good opportunity to see how well you guys work together. It should be great!"

Patton started to head towards the door. "Nigel, I probably won't be training you personally because of my trip, but I want you to know it's your loss because I _can_ take every single person in this room with the exception of one…"

He laid his eyes on Chad.

Chad perked up, "Yes, Nigel, in his absence, I will be happy to handle your training personally. You will learn to fight like no one else. You will become unstoppable."

"That's very generous of you Chad," Patton said with a smile as he was headed out the door, "but I was referring to Fan'."

Fanny Fulbright's face lit up in a proud smile.


End file.
